


in the end (it all goes away)

by queenofthecon



Category: Bon Appétit Test Kitchen RPF, Chef RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I had to have a break from huge fics, RPF, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:51:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21749710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofthecon/pseuds/queenofthecon
Summary: Claire is 30. Claire is single. Worst of all, Claire is going grey.
Relationships: Brad Leone & Claire Saffitz, Brad Leone/Claire Saffitz
Comments: 10
Kudos: 74





	in the end (it all goes away)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little sugary fluff as per request from Tumblr. I'm sorry it took me this long because my brain got stuck in the discord as usual. I hope it's everything you wanted, anon.
> 
> Please remember that RPF is fictional and is not real in the slightest. Please do not share around with anyone depicted fictionally here, we cool bruh?

** _ Winter 2016 _ **

Claire has to tell herself not to fiddle with her newly grown-in grey roots, to not part her thick hair a certain way to hide them anymore because she’s trying to be committed, goddamn it, to this being part of her new self – a more authentic version of Claire Saffitz. It’s fine, really, it’s not even _bad;_ it hasn’t hit her in the same way when she had freaked out about smile lines or the bags under her eyes. It’s just that she feels so much older with all of these things glaring at her in every mirror and reflective surface in the Test Kitchen even if no one else can see them. But Claire can see all of them, every tiny fleck of grey hair as an imperfection. She plucks at them with tweezers when the urge becomes to great to deal with: it’s an ongoing healing process of self-acceptance, okay?

Being thirty years old scares her more than she likes to admit and, well, it kinda sucks to be thirty, single _and_ greying at the same time. Still, she guesses it doesn’t matter in the wider sense of the weird world they inhabit now, where she’s making shitty YouTube videos about soup dumplings and an idiot is President. Just swings and roundabouts, even if she feels like she knows nothing and is making everything up as she goes along. What do they call it, imposter syndrome?

In the couple of weeks that she’s been overdue on dyeing her hair, none of her co-workers, her friends, have said anything about any brassy grey hairs showing in stark contrast to her normal black-brown waves. This morning, though? God. She can’t _not_ see them because overnight they are everywhere in nearly every way she parts or braids or pulls her hair to hide them for just a little bit longer. It’s all she wants, just a little more time to accept them herself before having to show them off to the entirety of the test kitchen (aka the most critical people to ever live). Jesus, Andy had gone platinum blonde for like a week and they’d all teased him mercilessly about having an early mid-life crisis for far longer than he’d even kept the hair.

At least it’s nearly winter and snowing heavily in New York, so it comes as a perfect excuse to wear her thick knitted beanies at her desk. It’ll be fine. She doesn’t have kitchen time until tomorrow. She’ll have accepted them by tomorrow, she’s sure.

But then, as if the universe has other plans, _Brad_ happens.

“Hey Claire!” he calls. They’re two words she loves to hear called over a hum of extractor fans and blenders alike and sure enough, Brad comes striding down the aisles of cubicles grinning at her, a jumble of boxes in his arms teetering like something out of a cartoon so his face is almost hidden. “You maybe wanna give me a hand here?”

Claire can’t help but grin back at him as he re-balances the pile in his arms. “What are you doing?” she says on a laugh, jumping up from her seat to help him as a few boxes crash to the floor. “Brad!”

Then he’s laughing in the way that he does, smile splitting his handsome face in half. She’s not blind. Brad Leone _glows_ when he laughs. “It’s Christmas morning, Saffitz!” Brad says as she bends down to pick up the parcels from the floor. “Come on, I got a whole new world of the sexiest little gadgets and gizmos and whatsits you ever saw.”

Taking a few more boxes from his arms, she follows him, work forgotten. “Wait, did Adam let you order all these?” she says, her arms now full as she studies the top boxes in her arms. “Sur La Table? Williams Sonoma, Brad?!”

“Company credit card, baby!” he kicks open his office door, turning the light on with his elbow. “What Rapo don’t know won’t hurt him. Trust me. Not like my patented Leone Cost-Cutting Measures ain’t worked all fricking year. We need new stuff!”

It feels so wrong, but Claire’s already spotted a super high end fuck-me-that’s-expensive sous vide machine in his pile that’s calling her name for a hundred projects. “You know my silence comes with a price tag,” she teases, setting down the boxes she’s carrying on his coffee table.

“Hey, hey, hey, eyes off the kit, Saffitz, I called dibs when I ordered it,” he bats her hands away as she reaches for the sous vide jokingly. “I got you some stuff though, like new off-sets and turntables and shit I know you had your tiny little grabby hands on.”

Claire’s eyes kinda bug out when she sees that ‘some stuff’ actually is about $500 of new equipment, specialised baking things she’s wanted for years and the most beautiful set of copper cookie cutters in Christmas shapes. It makes her stomach flutter that he even thought about her at all, let alone got things she’ll use for years for her very special holiday baking marathons. “I can’t believe you went on a spending spree without me. Williams Sonoma is the place where I go to touch all the pretty things I'll never buy.”

He kinda smirks at her, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth. “I know, Claire,” he says, pulling out the expensive sous vide. “Tell you what, though, I’ll swap you this…” he hands her the box. “For this.”

Before she can protest or even try to stop him, Brad reaches over and plucks the knitted beanie from her head. “Hey!” she calls out, dropping the sous vide to the couch.

It’s like time slows, honestly. Claire’s cheeks go pink as he kinda just stares at her dumbfoundedly, her greying roots on full display. “Wow. Claire, you-”

“Give it back!” she demands, feeling weird and exposed, but he holds the hat out of her reach as she gets herself more and more anxious about being without it. “Brad!”

His face and tone change in an instant from teasing to concerned, his brow almost furrowed. “Is this why you been sweating in this thing all week, Claire, because you’re going grey?”

It’s just not _fair_, Claire thinks as Brad drops the hat back into her hands. She looks down at it for a second before sighing deeply. “Maybe. I just, I’m not…” she pauses, but he doesn’t say a word, doesn’t lead her thoughts or talk over her. She’d thought he would be ripping her to pieces the way he had Andy, poking and prodding at her until she’d end up in tears. Instead, he’s just got those intense blue eyes on her and the world’s been upended again. “I’m trying to not let it bug me.”

“But it does?” he murmurs softly when she doesn’t elaborate, taking a step towards her. “Why?”

Her heart catches in her chest. His calloused hand pushes the grey streaks away from her face, and suddenly looks at her as if she’s an entirely different person, like she’s the only person he cares about in that moment.

“Brad, I just turned 30. I’m going grey…” she mutters, feeling his hand drop from her hair. “I tried, am _trying_ to accept it. Just go with it, but,” Claire wraps her arms around herself. “Being on camera, facing that reality, it’s hard. I guess you can’t really understand, you’re a guy…”

But he doesn’t step back from her like she’s expecting, doesn’t tell her she’s dumb or just to go back to dyeing her hair if it bothers her that much. “Jesus, Claire, you don’t think I get it?” he chuckles, reaching up and tugging the baseball cap from his head. “Why you think I wear these fucking things constantly? I mean, I’m still handsome as shit and all that,” she smiles despite herself. “But I get it. At least you’re not losing your hair, Saffitz, count yourself lucky.”

Claire looks up at him properly and sees that his sandy, wild curls aren’t as thick as she knows they used to be. It’s never mattered to her, though, it hadn’t stopped her from thinking things she shouldn’t think about a man who is technically her boss. He never really takes off his hat unless he has to; it’s a gesture that touches something deep inside her. A trust deeper than he has with anyone else to talk about something she knows bugs him. Claire hadn’t even _thought_ about it.

“So, I shouldn’t feel weird about not dyeing my hair anymore?” she surmises as he deposits both of their hats onto his couch.

“I’m saying, Claire, that you’re – y’know – you’re…” his fingers flex and gesture, as if trying to physically grab the right words. “You’re beautiful, okay? Grey, no grey, fucking… six limbs, whatever, you’re stunning.”

Beaming, giddy with the warmth of his reassurance, she reaches up and tucks her long hair back behind her ears, her teeth running over her bottom lip. “I am?”

Brad snorts ungainly. “You kidding me? Come on, Claire, what guy can resist those big brown doe eyes at him, huh?” She sees him swallow as a single hot, happy tear runs down her cheek, all the fears she had about herself disappearing before her from the kind words and empathy of this man. “Ah fuck, see.” He reaches out and wraps her in a tight hug. “Can’t resist ya.”

Claire can’t help but sink into his arms, his smile warm on her temple. If she feels the kiss he gives the top of her head, neither say a word about it.

** _ Winter 2019 _ **

Brad can’t stop himself from looking down at the woman asleep on his chest, her hair wild and wavy, thick and streaked with grey. He can’t help but wonder about how he and Claire ended up here, together at the beginning of a new adventure together, ready to sink into their own home and set up their forever. There’s her warm breath on his bare skin keeping him alive and God, he’s just one singularly lucky son of a bitch. She loves him, loves him deep, and he can’t believe it some days, but Brad loves every inch of her more and more with every high and low they have.

It’s the quietest his mind’s been in ages, actually, because it always can quiet down when it comes to Claire Saffitz. His fingers play idly with the looping curls of her hair, remembering every time he’s gripped it in his hands in passion or looped it over her ear when it’s in her way while she’s baking at home. Their life is beyond chaotic, but she’s his constant in the mess they make together and he already knows she’ll be his wife one day. He can’t wait to grow old and fat and – yes – go grey along with her.

He presses a soft kiss into the top of her head and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for commenting. I don't mind taking prompts or requests as long as you're good with me being slow as all fuck.


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